Jet takes the phone from my hand, insisting on doing it himself. “I’ll call her. Take a seat, okay?” he suggests, sliding a stool over to me.
I do as instructed as he puts the phone to his ear and calls. Jet steps away, talking quietly to my cousin when she answers. A few seconds later, he holds out the phone for me and says, “She’s on her way.” Then he runs up the stairs to gather my purse, leaving me alone in the warm hallway, sitting on a towel quickly soaking in blood.
My mind races as I try to grapple with understanding.
I’m having a miscarriage. The knowledge hits me hard.
I’m losing a baby I didn’t even realize I was carrying. The sadness hits me square in the chest, and the tears start to fall all over again.
Jet returns a few seconds later, setting my purse by the stool. “I’m going to check up front and be right back.”
“You don’t have to stay with me. I know you have to get back up front to train.”
But he’s not hearing it. “I’m not leaving you back here alone,” he states bluntly before slipping back up front to check on the situation.
He returns a few minutes later, just as a hard knock sounds on the back door. Once he opens it, Cassie flies inside, her eyes wide with worry. “Let’s go.”
I gingerly stand as she comes over and places her arm around my back, leading me out the door, my purse and phone cradled under my arm. “Let’s take my car,” I instruct once we’re outside. When she gives me a questioning look, I whisper, “I don’t want to get blood on your seat.”
She waves off my concern. “I don’t even care about that. Get in,” she demands, holding open the passenger door.
The ride to the hospital is short, especially with Mario Andretti behind the wheel. I try to reassure her I’m fine, but the words sound uncertain, even to my own ears, so I don’t blame her for driving her car like she stole it.
Cassie pulls up in front of the emergency department and stops the car. I get out, cradling the towel between my legs, and go inside, my cousin hot on my heels. “May I help you?” the woman at the counter asks.
“I think I’m having a miscarriage,” I whisper, the words feeling like they’re choking me.
“Okay. I need your insurance information,” she says, typing in her computer.
“I don’t have any.”
She looks up and blinks. “Oh. Okay, well, I’ll have some paperwork for you to fill out,” she starts, reaching for a clipboard and stack of papers.
“Can she do that in a bit? She’s bleeding all over your floor,” Cassie counters with a clipped tone.
“Oh. Yes, of course,” the woman stutters, gathering up the necessary paperwork and handing over the clipboard. “Please fill these out and return them when they’re complete.”
I’m ushered through a doorway and led to a room.
The next thirty minutes are a blur. My blood is drawn to confirm what I already know. I’m still bleeding and cramping heavily, even after a pain reliever was administered. My aunt arrived not too long after we got here and has been standing at my side, holding my hand the entire time. The mood is stoic as we wait for word on what’s happening.
“Shayne, good evening,” a woman says as she enters my room. “I’m Dr. Lewis, an OB-GYN. I’d like to take a quick look at your uterus with an ultrasound, if that’s all right? I’m a little concerned about the heavy bleeding,” she adds as a nurse enters the room with the machine.
“What’s the concern?” Aunt Joan asks, taking charge.
“Well, it could be nothing, but it might also mean infection, or the tissue isn’t shedding completely. If that’s the case, we’ll schedule her for a D&C as quickly as possible.”
I blink away the wetness in my eyes and try to focus on her words. She explains the process for a D&C, but my mind just seems to struggle to catch up and grasp her words. It hurts to concentrate when your heart is aching, so I finally just close my eyes and let my aunt handle the doctor.
I go through an exam and ultrasound, all while trying to keep it together. I find myself focusing on Ford. On his smile and easy laughter. On the way it felt to be in his arms. I try not to think about what’s happening or what it’ll be like to tell him about it. Those thoughts are too painful to comprehend.
“You said you’ve been spotting for a few days, right? You thought it was a menstrual cycle?” Dr. Lewis asks as she finishes up what she’s doing.
I nod in confirmation. I had been late, but I figured it was due to the stress. Between Ford leaving and my mom returning, I’ve had plenty of anxiety lately. When the spotting started, I just assumed it was my period finally arriving several weeks late.